Thursday, July 08, 2004

ThERE ARE 13 kANEs -

i gaze at the unseasonal weather conditions and my thoughts ...
... turn to LURid visions of HOT ACid baths
retro-cabinets fitted with sharp blades and rotting meat!

soft music plays as those i despise suffer the hatred of kANE.

But there are 12 kanes and i do not remember which one i am.

Monday, June 28, 2004



I can't believe I'm letting you do this to me..."

Her words vaguely protest, weakly, but her body succumbs, complies, relaxes, to the first slow kiss, lips pressing into soft tissue, and her body is limp without opposition.

Into the skin of her neck and the intricate softness as I sink into her breasts. Her hands touch my hair, gently at first then pulling tightly. I enjoy the sensation and my senses are aware, so very aware of her skin and her temperature.

My fingers fumble at her buttons. I free and peel back her clothes. Her flesh is a shimmering white, like pearls. I lift her arms and she sighs, her naked stomach rises and falls, trembles in apprehensive desire. I lean back and watch her breathing.

On the bed, her eyes are closed and waiting. I want to understand her forms, learn her nuances, and release her from the hidden desires.

Morning breaks wide open and spills into this cramped city, I wear my sunglasses. Light hurts my eyes.Something about the size of this city. It's huge and it's empty. It's violent and it's calm.

It's dying, but struggles to survive with its silent knowledge. Ancient but secret. Something real, but something I will never understand.

There are forgotten paths here.

There's also something wrong with its history. It doesn't flow well, it seems fake, and it seems manufactured. Tourists love it, citizens despise it. Sometimes this city is fast. But mostly it is divided and slow. Every minute is not the same and doesn't last as long as the one before.

I scratch my fingers down her thighs and she starts to quiver. My nails cut into her soft flesh, drawing blood, her breath flows unevenly and in gasps of slow release. I hold her tighter and bite. Rusty coils squeak on the hotel bed. Our bodies stretch, our bodies shift, and she grabs the back of my head again, presses it closer to her, breathes louder and I claw deeper into her flesh. I bite into her. Taste her sweet liquid and I give her new life.

I am Death, I am life. I am her lover and she is my food.

The End.